


don't bother looking down, we're not going that way

by i_was_human



Category: Lost in Translation (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Child Abuse, Dark, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Music, Inspired by The Most Beautiful Moment In Life | HYYH, M/M, Metaphors, Non-Linear Narrative, Suicide, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_was_human/pseuds/i_was_human
Summary: 𝓼𝓶𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓲𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓯𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓿𝓲𝓮𝔀-𝔀𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻
Relationships: Ahn Jaewon | Wyld/Kim Daehyun (Lost in Translation), Kang Dongho | D.Min/Lee Minsoo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	don't bother looking down, we're not going that way

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by we fell in love in october by girl in red and the hyyh series

Back then, it was the four of them.

Dongho, Jaewon, Daehyun-

and Minsoo. 

They were a _team_. More than a team, even.

They were _family_.

Dongho remembers how it started. It was his second year of high school - Minsoo's first - when a boy with black hair raced up to him, smile wide, and stuck out his hand.

_"Hey! I heard you know Minsung-hyung?"_

Dongho had said yes - he _knew_ Minsung, but they _definitely_ didn't get along - and Minsoo's grin turned downright devilish.

_"My name is Lee Minsoo, and I was wondering if you wanted to help me prank my brother."_

He was small, that day - waifish - clad in ill-fitting clothes and with too-long hair, and yet Dongho said yes.

What else could he say?

Minsoo always had that about him - a gravitational pull, of sorts - and it was one Dongho knew he'd never be able to resist.

(it didn't escape his notice that, after that, minsoo never mentioned his brother again.

dongho never had the heart to ask why. never did know what to press and what to drop.

it would've been better if he had.)

* * *

Dongho was - _is_ \- well aware he was a terrible role model for Minsoo.

Between classes, they'd sneak out to the rooftops, and Dongho would sit on the edge, a cigarette between his fingers and lighter in his hand.

Every so-often, Minsoo would steal one, taking a long drag and exhaling silver clouds. He never got too into it, though. 

Dongho knew it wasn't his poison of choice, but he offered them anyways.

Minsoo was small, back then - always _was_ small - but in those early years, he was smaller than small. Dongho could count his ribs when his too-small shirt rode up, could wrap his hand around his wrist and have his fingers touch, but he said nothing.

It wasn't as if anyone would do anything, after all.

It took Minsoo a year to find his poison - alcohol - and they'd sit on their school rooftop, Minsoo sipping from a can and Dongho exhaling smoke into the air.

(neither of them wanted to go home, but things couldn't have been more different.)

Dongho- Dongho was rebelling. He never _wanted_ to take over his parent's company, never _wanted_ to live life in suits and under false pretenses. He never _wanted_ to be the cookie-cutter son they craved, and he didn't think he'd be capable of cutting off parts of himself to fit the mold.

(minsoo didn't fit the mold. wasn't a high-class friend. dongho didn't care. they tore each other down and put each other back together, and that was far better than someone who'd prop up a structure of glass.)

But Minsoo-

Minsoo was running.

And that, perhaps, was what Dongho should've seen.

He knew the broad sketches - knew Minsoo was getting his bruises and cuts from somewhere - but whenever he pressed, Minsoo would just laugh and wave it off, lips curling into a genial smile. 

Minsoo was good at that. Smiling when something didn't warrant a smile. 

(dongho never thought to ask where he learned it from.)

* * *

The year their pair turned into a family was also the year things got worse. 

Jaewon and Daehyun were small - so, so small, and so _fragile_ \- and Minsoo brought them up to the roof on the first day of Dongho's junior year, lips curled into a bright smile.

Jaewon was from the bad side of town, Dongho learned - and that explained the way his clothes never seemed to fit right and why he'd never bring lunch. His mom worked hard to provide for both of them, so Jaewon rarely saw her, but there was little doubt in his mind that she loved him.

_("wonder what that's like?" minsoo quipped, and dongho barked a laugh, the sound scraping his throat.)_

And Daehyun-

Daehyun loved him.

Daehyun loved Jaewon, and Jaewon loved Daehyun, and when Daehyun told them, hands shaking and vulnerability shining in those dark eyes, it was Minsoo who'd cut the awkward silence.

_("so? if i gave a shit what people think about me, i'd've offed myself long ago.")_

They were caught up in Minsoo's orbit as well, and soon enough, the four of them met up on the roof each day, Dongho smoking and Minsoo drinking and Daehyun singing and Jaewon floating between the three.

That year was also the year Minsung left.

 _"To stay with another family member,"_ Minsoo had told him, something _brittle brittle brittle_ in those dark eyes. _"It doesn't matter."_

It did.

Even in the hottest days of summer, Minsoo would wear a jacket and jeans, citing "lack of body fat" when Daehyun inevitably questioned. He smiled less and drank more, staying out later than any of them whenever he could help it.

(dongho knew what was going on, and yet he said nothing.

in a way, then, it was his fault. what happened.

he should've done something.)

* * *

That winter, they dyed their hair.

Jaewon chose red - red like his spit-slick lips, red like the last streaks of the dying sun - and Daehyun opted for blond, like the sun Jaewon saw him as. 

Minsoo chose white, and it only reminded Dongho of a snowflake.

Flickering, dancing, falling- much like Minsoo himself, when he was sober enough to try. Something careening towards an inevitable demise.

(dongho chose violet. violet like the bruises painting minsoo's arm, violet like the night just before sunrise.

he'd hoped, foolishly, that violet could mean something more than death and destruction.

what a stupid, stupid wish.

minsoo and destruction were hopelessly intertwined, and dongho with it.)

 _"You remind me of falling snow,"_ he told Minsoo that night, and he laughed, sharp, harsh, bitter.

_"Falling, huh? Sounds nice. I'd get to fly."_

That was the kind of humor Minsoo loved, then. Black - black as Dongho's clothes, black as the liner ringing his eyes, black as the bags against pale skin.

Minsoo would've loved seeing him like this, Dongho thinks - clad in whites and grays and reds.

He would've laughed.

(minsoo laughed at most things, dongho learned, especially when he wanted to cry. or maybe he did. dongho never was able to tell the two apart.)

* * *

Dongho never wanted to put a name on what he felt for Minsoo.

It wasn't brotherly, he knew. In fact, it tended a little more towards what Jaewon and Daehyun had.

But they existed outside labels - outside society - and if Dongho put a label on this, it felt as if it might crumble in his hands.

And yet-

he kissed him. 

Just once.

(only once)

It was October in Dongho's senior year, and Minsoo was still small, still so horribly waifish, roots growing in the silver, and Dongho had taken his face in his hands and kissed him.

Minsoo had a black eye, he remembers. He tasted like cinnamon, like _fall_ , and behind it, the sweet taste of yogurt soju. 

And then Minsoo had pulled away, eyes flickering with something unreadable, and he laughed.

Told Dongho he tasted bitter, tasted like cigarettes, and danced away, racing forwards to sling his arms over Daehyun and Jaewon's shoulders.

Things were like that, then. Feelings were jokes - because dwelling in them was too much for anyone to bear.

(dongho was bitter, then. his throat burned and the flame danced and _dongho was so horribly bitter_.)

* * *

_"I hope you stop smoking,"_ Minsoo told him, a day before the end. _"You'd be nicer to kiss if you didn't taste like cigarettes."_

* * *

The happiest night of those days was in the darkness.

The four of them ran through the city in the dead of night, a bottle clutched in Minsoo's hand, and spray paint cans jingled in Daehyun's bag - a delightful promise.

They didn't draw much of anything, really. It wasn't about what they said.

It was about the fact that _they were there_. Dongho and Jaewon and Daehyun and Minsoo were _there_.

They were there, and they were _alive_.

Minsoo's black eye shone in the dim light, and he raised his bottle to the sky, a nearly-hysteric laugh spilling over his lips.

 _"We were here!"_ he shouted, and Dongho never questioned the tense. _"We were here!"_

Daehyun nodded, pressing a bruising kiss to Jaewon's lips, and the elder giggled, hopping onto Daehyun's back. 

They were happy, those two. Enough for each other, even if the world wasn't enough for them.

(could dongho have been that?)

Jaewon pressed a kiss to Daehyun's cheek, cherry-red lipstick leaving a mark, and Daehyun shook his can, spraying bright gold over a crumbling ediface.

(minsoo did that. applied spray paint in the form of makeup, liner and shadow and lipstick, tried to make himself look less like the ghost he always was.)

Perhaps it was that night that a part of Dongho realized Minsoo was never going to live to adulthood. Not snowflake-Minsoo, not someone who'd melt as soon as he hit the ground.

Minsoo raised the bottle, jingling laugh tumbling over his lips, and he took a swig, stars dancing in his eyes. _"We're doin' a community good, eh?"_

 _"I don't think this is what they had in mind,"_ Dongho quips, and Minsoo grins.

_"'s why it's a good, 'Ho."_

He was never one for honorifics. Saw them as pretentious.

(dongho's family was more then a little pretentious to him.)

Minsoo painted a twisted snowflake on the wall of their school, silver and gray and white and red and uniquely _Minsoo_ , and Dongho critiqued the corners - _"not sharp, not smooth, what are you doing?"_ \- and Minsoo laughed at him, chucking the empty bottle at the wall behind him. 

_"'s art, 'Ho. Doesn't have to make sense."_

* * *

Dongho always thought Minsoo could've conquered the world, had he wanted to.

Could've been an idol, had he wanted to.

Minsoo had that _charisma_ , that _drive_ , and Dongho knows he was skewed, back then, but even now, he still believes Minsoo could've been _anything_. 

(he didn't plan to include a corpse in that anything, but minsoo always broke his plans.)

* * *

Minsoo was the one who put a label on it.

 _"I love you,"_ he'd written, scrawl slanted and hurried. _"I have ever since I met you."_

 _Then why didn't you kiss me again?_ Dongho wanted to scream, hands shaking as they clutched the paper. _Why didn't you kiss me again?_

Minsoo couldn't answer, of course.

That night, Dongho threw his lighter in the trash.

(after all - he led minsoo to this. he held out the gun. minsoo just pulled the trigger.)

Minsoo would've been happier had he never met him, he thinks. Then maybe, maybe, maybe he wouldn't have done it.

(wishful thinking. minsoo danced with death, flirted with disaster, and dongho was simply a part of a larger catastrophe designed to tear a star from the sky.)

That's what Minsoo was, Dongho thinks. A meteor - something destined to burn itself up before hitting the ground.

But-

Minsoo hit the ground.

Minsoo hit the ground, and Dongho saw the body.

(that's not something you forget. seeing the body of the person you love, red on white on violet.)

 _"I love you,"_ Minsoo said, and Dongho wonders even now if he even knew what that meant. If he knew- if he knew how much Dongho wanted to follow him.

(he never went up to the roof after that. couldn't- couldn't bear to see it without minsoo there.

couldn't shake the feeling that he'd jump off after him.)

* * *

Minsung attended his funeral.

Dongho punched him in the nose.

 _"You fucking failed him!"_ he screamed, Jaewon and Daehyun gripping his arms as if to hold him back (but if he really wanted to, _really_ , they wouldn't be able to do a damn thing.) _"You failed him!"_

Perhaps it was the way Dongho could see Minsoo in those eyes.

Perhaps it was knowing that he had more to do with Minsoo's death than Minsung did. 

Either way-

he didn't hit him again.

(sometimes, when he's five drinks in, he wishes he had. 

minsoo would've laughed.)

* * *

_"This drink is disgusting,"_ he said once, and Minsoo laughed, taking another swig.

_"Maybe the drink thinks that about you. Ever consider that?"_

He thought like that, Dongho remembers. Always thought in broken circles instead of straight lines.

Minsoo never was one to be constrained by societal expectations - never was one to believe in anything that would fit Dongho's family's version of _proper_.

Perhaps that's what Dongho loved about him.

Minsoo had tilted his head back, that night, greasy hair brushing his jaw, and he looked at Dongho, eyes young and sad and _alive_.

_"Would you come to my funeral?"_

Minsoo joked like that, Dongho remembers. Always joked like that.

_"Yeah. Maybe."_

_"I would!"_ Daehyun cheered, already three drinks into a six-pack, and Jaewon leaned against his shoulder, eyes shut as he traced the back of his boyfriend's hand. _"I'd give a kickass eulogy!"_

 _"Thanks,"_ Minsoo smiled, and it was that soft, vulnerable smile Dongho saw on the first day of his sophmore year all over again.

(it should've been a red flag, but with them, what wasn't? after all, when jaewon joked about taking a swan dive off the roof to lessen the burden on his mother, daehyun always said he'd follow him, and this was no different.)

* * *

_"I don't want a funeral,"_ Jaewon mused one night, expression distant. _"I want a cremation. Or just leave me to rot. Mom has enough expenses."_

 _"You're worth it,"_ Daehyun told him, and a part of Dongho wondered if Minsoo would ever say that about him. 

_"Joint body pile,"_ Minsoo proposed, raising a glass to nobody in particular. _"How's about it? The four of us, all in our own hopeless little grave."_

Dongho laughed, that night. They all had.

After all - that's what they were.

Hopeless.

* * *

If Dongho could, he'd do it over again.

Perhaps that's why he drifted towards writing, towards losing himself in the written word.

(he's never had the words to describe the exact way minsoo's hair looked that day, red and black and silver and sunset-lit, and he doesn't know if he'll ever find them.)

If he was a painter, he'd never put that image on canvas. It's a nightmare all his own.

(nobody else could ever understand. nobody could ever understand how it felt to have his soul torn from his chest.

nobody else could ever understand the agony of seeing the three words he'd wanted to hear scrawled with a shaking hand on a paper he never wanted to see.)

* * *

_"You should find a dream, 'Ho. Get out of this shitty fuckin' town."_

_"Not without you."_

Minsoo smiled at him - sad and sober - and he propped his chin up on his hand, waves of black eclipsing his eyes. _"I'm never gettin' out of here, 'Ho. You know that as well as me."_

Minsoo could've been anything, and he chose to be a body.

(sometimes, dongho wishes he was that brave.)

**Author's Note:**

> oops.
> 
> didn't proofread, sorry about that. i lost this fic once and didn't feel like rereading it.
> 
> stay safe.
> 
> [twit](https://twitter.com/i_was_human_) | [lit fic discord!](https://discord.gg/CNunB74)


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